When times are unbridled and everyone’s scared with threats near,
As piles of worries surmount the dice roll of the day,
And things are just getting a little too big and the strife is clear,
Then there is tension – everyone’s proximal to the panic that lay.
When floods of torrential volume flow and river levels mount,
As once dry streets awash and surge and mud film settles high on signs,
And the evacuations take place quicker than thought or count,
Then bridging consciousness stands and drawn is the battle for lines.
When fire tears through pristine landscapes and sweeps away mortals,
As memories of past terrors climb over the fence of collective mindsets,
And decisions are made to stay or leave – rend of home and portals,
Then cases are made and decisions are stayed – save the regrets.
When madness has taken place and calamity is the mark of reason,
As all distant memory is vanquished for notions of the immediate hour,
And shrieking is the order of the stricken day – a ghastly season,
Then many travesties hearken home that mood of thought: it’s dour!
When as the days unfold and realities settle, memories are kindled,
As memorials are struck and esteem is gathered about the land,
And rivers dug deep of emotion and fires burned to souls are mingled,
Then posts are marked and legacy is reaped with hearts close at hand.
When all is said and done, recognition is given, the battle lost or won,
As history is forged and mates are remembered for the spirit of giving,
And thought of journeying laid waste with them and their deeds done,
Then we remember them, continuing on in the land of the living.
When all’s long past and everyone gathers to reflect,
As everything that’s gone on to this day inspires us to lift once again,
And all the more safety of home is cherished – never could we reject,
Then home becomes the sanctuary for thankful women and men.
© 2011 S. J. Wickham.